


Body and soul

by lillyofthevally



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Queer Character(s), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, come for the demons stay for the dads, creative reimagining of s2, demonic possesion, marcus keane/a good hug, marcus keane/being a good dad to his many kids, marcus keane/suffering, sad priests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-31 01:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12665415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillyofthevally/pseuds/lillyofthevally
Summary: Three is a holy number in many religions: the three fates, the three Celtic gods, the father the son and the holy ghost. It is a number contained within itself, a beginning, a middle and an end. we understand it perhaps better than any other sequence, and we embrace it like the deceived seek truth. It is the old way, and the new way, and away into the future. This is the story of three; A man, a priest, and a demon.





	1. Clarity

Marcus stayed on the stern of the boat as peter walked back to steer them towards the jagged black line of trees that mark the shore. The moon poured almost a perfect stream from the heavens across the water to the stern of the boat, broken only where the tree line cut the water and sky apart. There was something comforting about the Sound, surrounded by land on almost all sides as it was. In the distance Marcus could always anchor himself with the sight of land. The only sound was Marcus’ breathing and the waves. He felt settled, at peace.

 Washington is a lot like the UK in many ways, Marcus thought, the smell was the same and the weather around this time of year was about the same as well. Normally Marcus would hate the reminder of home, if one could even call it that, but right now it only brought back memories of evenings spent under the cool branches of the forest. The place held no memories of his mother, though she had brought him there, only of damp moss and the smell of earth. The smell of brine and sound of gulls was new, but not unwelcome. It was one of the few happy memories he had, which was why he had shared it with Tomas.

The man didn’t need any more darkness than he already carried with him, he deserved only the best memories. Marcus groaned and rubbed at his face with both hands, he had gone all of five minutes without thinking about Tomas. Here he was, on a nice boat, with a handsome man who listened and shared with him like an equal, and was a damn good kisser to top it off, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the priest. What had he ever done to the almighty to deserve this.

“Marcus!” peter shouted, interrupting his train of thought, “We are docking in just a minute.” Marcus straightened up off the railing of the boat and walked back to join peter. He managed to resist checking his phone for any missed calls from Tomas. Peter smiled over at him, and Marcus returned it, as they waited for the boat to draw even with its place on the boat. Marcus helped peter secure the boat and offered him a hand down from the deck once that was done. He let his hand linger for a moment against the small of peter’s jacket before stepping back.

“goodnight peter, thank you for this. More than I can say.” Marcus said. Peter just nodded and smiled.

“of course Marcus. I hope that we can do this again. You’re sure I can’t give you a ride anywhere, it’s pretty late?” He asked.

“me too. And no, I kept the car, I can manage on my own.” Marcus lifted his hand in farewell before heading back up to where his car was parked on the road. Only once he had settled himself in the driver’s seat and the engine had turned over after a little jimmying did he pull out his phone and look for Tomas’ name. his phone lit up to show no missed texts, calls, messages. Marcus rubbed a hand across the short hairs at the back of his neck, he needed badly to trim them.

Worry settled in Marcus’ gut, Tomas was supposed to call him once he got back to where they were staying. He unlocked the phone and dialed Tomas’ number. For many long seconds he sat in the dark cab listening to the phone ring. Marcus knew after the third ring that Tomas wouldn’t pick up, you can always tell from the tone when a phone isn’t going to be answered, when there is no one on the other end. Marcus felt sharply and suddenly alone, as though the whole world had shrunk to the truck’s cab, the other half of the empty bench seat, the rattle of the engine and desperate cry of the phone. The black world outside was gone, it was only Marcus. Finally the voicemail kicked over.

“ _Hello, this is Tomas Ortega_ _’s_ _phone, I_ _’_ _m sorry I can_ _’t_ _answer it right now, but please leave your name and number and I_ _’_ _ll get back to you as soon as I can._ ” Here there was the familiar pause as Tomas took a breath before starting again, _“_ _Buenos dias, No puedo ir a el tel_ _éfono en este momento_ _, Lo siento. Por favor llame de otro tiempo o deje su nombre y n_ _úmero_ _de tel_ _éfono_ _despues de el_ _‘_ _beep_ _’_ _. Cu_ _ídete_ _._ _”_

The truck was rolling onto the road before Marcus had any conscious memory of moving, but he knew where he was going. The roads were dark and slick, and demons seemed to hide in every shadow, Marcus drove as fast as he dared. He was cursing himself by the time he pulled into Andy’s long driveway, he should have known Tomas would never leave well enough alone, that he couldn’t wait one _fucking_ day so that Marcus could confirm the possession and help him exorcise the demon. No the goddamn idiot had to run in with no backup, without even _telling_ Marcus, and likely get himself killed. ‘ _Cu_ _ídete’_ Tomas said, the man should take his own advice. Marcus practically sprinted the last few yards to the front door when he saw Andy’s car idling by the curb, doors open, lights on. Just inside Tomas was propped up against the entry way table, peering owlishly around the corner. He was soaked, his shirt and hair clinging to his skin, and he was shaking. Marcus couldn’t tell if it was from cold or exhaustion, but in that moment it didn’t matter, because he was _alive_. Tomas was whole and human in front of Marcus and he almost collapsed under his relief.

“ _Tomas_ ” Marcus hissed “what are you doing? I told you to _wait._ You idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed.”    

Tomas turned around slowly and for a second Marcus could only see his eyes, blessedly clear brown. His face was open and lost, his hair curling against his temples. Marcus quickly stepped forward and wrapped a supporting arm around Tomas’ waste to help hold him up, trying to ignore the strong stench of mildew and the uncomfortably cold stickiness of his partners shirt. It was worth it for the way Tomas’ shudders immediately eased. Tomas opened his mouth but before he could say anything they were jarred by a shout. Marcus swore, shifting Tomas weight higher up to his shoulder so he could steady him further with a hand bunched in the soaked fabric of Tomas’ trousers. It was perhaps not the most graceful accent that Marcus had ever made up a flight of stairs but it was certainly not the worst. Once a demon had thrown him up two flights into a landing, he had broken at least two ribs, probably more.

 That was much worse than dragging a sopping Tomas Ortega up a flight of stairs by his shoulder and, literally, the seat of his pants. At the top of the stairs Marcus peeled Tomas off his side and deposited in a dripping heap by the wall, with a terse command to stay he shouldered his way through the door.

Andy was standing staring at the wall while art supplies and canvases hurtled around the room. The shout had come from Verity who was sitting on the floor with her hands over her head. A cut above her right eye was bleeding sluggishly and Marcus had no doubt there was a matching red smear on one of the objects flying around him. Verity turned towards the sound of the door opening and Marcus immediately reached out a hand towards her, trying to pull her behind him, out of the room. She ducked a miniature metal easel and launched herself towards him. Marcus grabbed her quickly, turning so that the mason jar that chased her slammed into his shoulder instead of her head. He pushed her through the attic door and dragged it shut immediately behind, turning to face Andy.

The objects picked up, flinging themselves against Marcus even more aggressively now that he was their soul target. Bits of glass stung his shoulder and a broken paintbrush scored the back of his hand. Marcus bit back a hiss and began to pray. The words poured out of him, full of light and warmth to drive back the demons damp and darkness. It was like sanding down a rough stone, layer by layer the flying objects settled to the ground until Andy himself wobbled and slid to the floor.

Marcus ached, all over were a thousand tiny nicks and cuts, he had a few decent sized bruises on his back, shoulder, and all along his right side. Marcus crouched down in front of Andy and with a groan when his knees protested, the man looked all right, he hadn’t fully succumbed to the demon yet. He and Tomas had time.

Marcus moved around the room picking up the more dangerous parts of debris, mostly bits of broken porcelain and glass, shoving them all into an old burlap bag he had found in the corner. With that done Marcus had to deal with Andy, he wished he didn’t need help with this part but seeing as he barely had one good limb out of all four of them that was unlikely.

Marcus opened the attic door and stuck his head out. Tomas had gotten to his feet and was talking quietly to Verity who had her back to Marcus. They both turned to him when they heard the door open. Verity made a face.

“no offense dude, but you look like you just lost a fight with Bob Ross’ evil clone.”

“and you look like someone who was just rescued from a fight with bob ross’ evil clone by a truly heroic man willing to sacrifice his beautiful face for your safety” Marcus said, pointing to one of the cuts on his face for effect. Verity snorted but some of the tension leached out of her body and she looked less like a cornered dog and more like a very stressed teenager.

“Mind if I borrow father Tomas for a second? I need some help getting Andy downstairs to bed.” Verity stepped back, shot some kind of look at Tomas, and glared sharply at Marcus.

“you’re both going to explain to me what the fucking hell is going on when you do…whatever it is you two are doing. I have to call Rose, get her back here, tell her what -fuck. I have to tell her _something_. Whatever I’ll figure it out.” She crossed her arms and disappeared down the stairs before Marcus or Tomas could say anything to stop her. Marcus’ shoulder stung and he wondered idly if he would ever be able to help anyone without hurting someone else.

 Tomas rolled up his sleeves and silently followed Marcus into the attic room. The lights in the house had flickered back on sometime and Marcus realized that Tomas wasn’t wet at all. Maybe it had been a trick of the light, or a trick of the demon, but Marcus could still feel the phantom cold tackiness from Tomas’ shirt against his bruised ribs. He shivered.

Tomas helped lift Andy beside Marcus and drag him awkwardly down the stairs. It was a strange mirror of the hour before when it had been Marcus alone dragging a shivering Tomas up the stairs. Instead of cold Andy radiated heat, the fever already taking hold. God is cold, hell is hot. They got Andy into his bed and stood over him for a moment. Tomas sighed, tugging at the collar of his shirt with his fingers and looking everywhere but at Marcus.

“I am sorry Marcus, I should have waited for you, I just couldn’t leave it alone. I could _feel_ that something was wrong and I knew, I’m sorry, but I knew you would not do anything without proof. I’m sorry.” Tomas’ sounded sincere, exhausted, a little bit desperate, his eyes flicking up every time he apologized to gauge Marcus’ reaction. He almost looked afraid of Marcus, and he couldn’t stand that, it made bile rise in his throat.   

“No Tomas, it was my fault.” He said, walking around the bed to put a hand on the back of Tomas’ neck, anchoring them both. “I know you, I knew you never could leave well enough alone if you thought someone was in danger. I shouldn’t have left you alone. My fault. Mine.” Tomas looked like he wanted to argue but he just shook his head, rubbed his chin, and said,

“Marcus you can’t take on everyone’s sin.” Marcus laughed darkly, pulling his hand away from the back of Tomas’ neck.

“I can certainly try.”

“Where were you anyway? I thought you were getting back earlier.” Tomas asked. Marcus squirmed. Tomas’ face was so open and tired, he would never notice the lie, which made it even worse.

“ah yeah, peter and I, we uh got delayed on the way back from the hospital. The girl, you know the daughter, she told me about her father. I was convinced before I got here that you were right about the island, there is an evil here, bigger than any I’ve seen before. Its woven into the rocks and the trees, like the nets of the tent caterpillars.” Marcus knew it would sound strange to Tomas that he knew there was danger and had still arrived late. Silently he cursed himself for letting peter distract him, he had felt so comfortable with him, like he rarely had before with anyone. Even god had seemed to be with them out there on the silent water. It had all felt like part of His plan. And then he was brought plummeting back to reality. Luckily Tomas was too out of it to call him on his bullshit, and just nodded and hummed in acknowledgment.

“alright Tomas, I think it’s time for the both of us to lie down. Andy is still fighting the possession so we have time, we need to sleep while we can.” Marcus left Tomas standing over Andy’s bed and went looking for Verity. She was sitting on the edge of her bed. Her whole body was shuddering as the silent sobs started in her throat and jerked through her whole body. It was a style of crying Marcus knew well, one learned under the bed to keep quite so that he didn’t get kicked or punched again. He pulled the tissue box off the top of the dresser and dropped onto his haunches in front of her, careful not to touch her or interrupt her tears. He knew how this went and it wasn’t something that could be rushed. After a few minutes the sobs slowed and finally she stopped shaking.

“fuck, sorry, I hate crying.” Verity said rubbing at her eyes. Marcus pulled out a fistful of tissues and offered them to her. Verity hid her face in them and rubbed vigorously at the eyeliner smeared under her eyes.

“I got Rose to stay on the island, she wouldn’t have been able to leave anyway because the ferries don’t run this late. She’s staying at a neighbors with the others but she’s coming by tomorrow. I told her that Andy had had some kind of meltdown but that you two were here and that everything was fine.” Verity said this all in short breaths, as though she was afraid if she waited too long the words would be overtaken by the silent sobs again.   

“Thank you for making that call, I’m sorry that you had to, but it sounds like you did a great job. Tomas and I can take care of Andy you don’t have to worry about anything tonight. I know you want answers, and deserve them, but its late. I swear that tomorrow Tomas and I will answer anything you need to know. Is that alright with you?” Marcus asked. Verity sized him up from her hunched ball on the bed, taking in Marcus’ creased face, his leather jacket and shredded T-shirt, the spots where blood had soaked through the fabric and plastered his hair close to his scalp. He looked just as shit as she felt and for whatever reason that was what convinced her. Slowly Verity nodded.

“fine. You have 24 hours to give me a decent answer or I’m telling Rose about all this crazy shit and letting her figure it out.” Marcus relaxed immediately. Carefully he reached out and patted the back of her hand where it rested on her knee.

“thank you, Verity, truly. Tomas and I will be down the hall in the guest room, where rose was staying. I hope you don’t mind, I thought it would be the least invasive place to stay.” Marcus said.

“yeah that should be fine.” Verity said, her voice slowly getting quieter, she was staring at some point over Marcus’ left shoulder but not really seeing anything.  

“Alright, if you need anything you know where to find us. Nothing will happen while we are here.” Marcus said, beginning to stand and drawing his hand off of Verity’s. before he could withdraw fully her hand darted out to grab his by the wrist, fingers curling around the thick raised scar that ran from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. With her other hand Verity pressed something small and cold into his palm.

“here.” She said, letting go and wrapping her arms around herself.

“what’s this?”

“it’s the key to Andy’s room, it can be locked from the outside, he keeps the key in a drawer by the front door. He doesn’t think we know where it is, but obviously we do. I thought it might… well I thought maybe you could use it to…” she trailed off, her eyes drifting back to the spot on the wall behind Marcus. He closed his fingers around the key and backed out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

Tomas was gone from Andy’s room when Marcus went to fetch him so he just shut and locked the door, sliding the key into his pocket. Marcus found Tomas at the top of the stairs, looking into the attic room. He turned when he heard Marcus approaching, giving his friend a weak smile.

“I just spoke to Verity, she’s alright with us staying in Rose’s room for the night. It will be a bit of a squeeze but we’ve had worse.” Marcus checked his watch, “It’s almost two in the morning, so we should try to get whatever sleep we can.” Tomas nodded.

“you are right, I wanted to make sure everything was settled up here. I checked the other rooms in the house too, it appears we are alone for the moment. Lead the way.”

They settled in in silence, Marcus taking the left side of the bed and Tomas taking the right. It was not the first time they had shared a bed, so was the danger of traveling from motel to motel and taking what was available. Still every time they did there would be a moment, just when Marcus was transitioning from sleep to wakefulness, where his brain would tell him that this was real. That Tomas was sprawled out next to him of his own accord and that Marcus could lay there for hours beside him and touch his hair or listen to him mumble softly in Spanish as he dreamt.

Marcus tried very hard not to think about his dreams, or those moments in the morning when the dreams clung to him like silk. Not just because they often starred Tomas in a bed, with him; but because they also contained a Tomas with demon’s eyes and a neck wrung out like a chicken’s.

Marcus laid on his back and wished fervently that the dreams would not come to him tonight. Beside him Tomas was praying softly in Spanish, and even though Marcus could not understand what he was saying it comforted him. On the bedside table Marcus’ phone lit up and began to buzz. Quickly Marcus rolled over and snatched it up to decline the call before it could jar tomas out of his prayers, he could have sworn he had the thing on silent or turned off entirely. There were several missed texts from peter, and the call as well. Most of them read to the effect that peter wanted to know if he had gotten home safely or saying how much he had enjoyed their night together. Marcus smiled in the dark. Beside him tomas had gone quiet, but Marcus hardly even noticed. One of the messages caught his eye, it was the third one down, a terribly cheesy pickup line that read ‘I don’t know which was more beautiful, the water, the sky, or your eyes’. Marcus couldn’t remember the last time someone had tried to use a like that on him. Probably not since he had left Rome. Marcus grinned and typed out a response.

**Marcus** : Was that a line? Because you got me hook line and sinker.

**Peter** : haha, it was but only because you are such a catch ;)

**Marcus** : Not interested in any other fish then? I thought you and that wolf eel were getting pretty friendly the other day.

**Peter** : oh good lord no, the males of that species are absorbed into their mates. Not a way I would like to go myself.

**Peter:** Normally most of my work involves catching salmon but I’ll make an exception for you.

**Marcus** : I’m honored.

**Peter** : You are much rarer and more fascinating than any fish I’ve come across anyway.

**Peter:** not that I don’t love trading fish pickup lines with you, but a man’s got to leave a little bit of mystery for the next time we see each other.

**Peter:** and I think we are both a little past the age where we can stay up late texting under the covers like teenagers. I’m glad you got home safe Marcus, I hope we can see each other soon.  

**Marcus:** Me too, goodnight Peter.

Marcus switched off his phone and replaced it on the night stand, rolling onto his back and folding his hands over his chest. His lungs felt carbonated, little bubbles of laughter tickling each of his ribs. It was not a necessarily unpleasant feeling. The darkness pressed close and warm against his eyelids and Marcus dell asleep quickly to the sound of Tomas’ breathing.


	2. Speak of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel a lot better about this chapter than the last one, I tweaked my plans a little so they can still line up with friday's episode. I'm stealing the details of Truck being at the hospital and buying myself some time by having the kids stay with the neighbors instead of coming home early, hope that makes sense. Also #letveritysayfuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish translations down in the end notes, though none of what is being spoken is vital to the story.  
> TW: suicidal ideation

In his dream Tomas was stumbling down a flight of stairs. the walls on either side of him were plaster, with brick visible underneath it in cracks and patches. The walls seemed to press in, each movement of his legs or arms brought him into contact with the moldering plaster, somehow both damp and flaking at the same time. His hair was turned almost white by the stuff as it rained down on him. Still he could not stop, he had to go down deeper, to get away from…from something. Someone? Tomas did not know.

He knew only the feel of the plaster under his hands and the fear in-between his ribs, twisting like a knife. Tomas could see the end of the stairs, but it brought him no relief, it meant only he would have to turn and see what he was running from.

His foot caught on a loose board and the last few steps Tomas all but fell down, landing on his knees in the dirt. Above him the stairs creaked. Tomas could not look up. _The knowing is worse than the unknowing,_ he told himself, _you must resist_. Resist what, he did not know. In the corner of his vision he could see a pair of black shoes. A voice above him said,

“Tomás.”

Tomas did not look up, he could not. Somewhere deep inside he knew what he would see and he could not stand it.

“Tomás,” the voice said again “Tomás míranos.”

It does not matter now, Tomas thought, whether he looked or not. He knew his own voice, even if he could not see his own face. Tomas looked up.

Above him stood a man in a black suit with an immaculate white collar. His skin was clean and bare of scars or bruises, his smile was both beatific and victorious. His eyes were full of iris’ of a thousand colors, all swarming together to chase out Tomas’ own brown ones. Demons clustering to pear out at the priest on his knees before them. The demons’ smile widened, turning from beatific to cruel in a sickening twist of lips.

“Tú eres un tonto. Pensaste que eras puro, puta sucia, adúltero. Pensaste que eso te salvaría.” The demons crouched, reaching out to Tomas with his own hand.

“Tu pareja, el Viejo León Gris, verá esto en ti. Él cree en ti ahora, pero ¿Cuánto tiempo durará eso? Él te dejará. Entonces te tendremos. Todos nosotros.” The demon laughed, and its voice was no longer his, it was Marcus’. It whispered in a horrible mockery of what the man himself had once said to Tomas,

“Do not worry little cub, you will never have to be alone again. We believe in you.”

Tomas woke screaming, or what would have been a scream if Marcus hadn’t clapped a hand over his mouth before it could be more than a high-pitched shout. Marcus didn’t move his hand for several long minutes while Tomas’ breathing slowed and the scream inched its way back down his throat.

When he could speak he pulled Marcus’ hand away and whispered something unintelligible about the bathroom. Rolling out of bed Tomas stumbled in the dark to the bathroom door, fumbling for a light switch until he was finally bathed it yellow light.

 There is a part to nightmares that makes waking up in the dark so much worse than the dream itself, because you can’t tell if it followed you out of sleep. But when faced with the bare mundanity of a bathroom at five o’clock in the morning there are few horrors that wouldn’t be quelled.

Tomas braced his hands on the sink and leaned forwards to stare at himself in the mirror, even pulling down both eyelids with his fingers, but they were his own again. Tomas exhaled shakily and slid down onto his knees, pressing his forehead to the cold porcelain stem of the sink and whispering prayers into the tile floor. Marcus leaned against the doorway, but did not speak.

At last Tomas sat up and unclasped his hands. Without looking at Marcus Tomas said,

“I’m sorry my friend, I’m sure that was a very unpleasant way to wake up.” In the doorway Marcus shrugged, still watching Tomas.

“I wasn’t asleep, you had been speaking in your sleep before you woke up. I’m a light sleeper you know. Don’t worry, it was all in Spanish, so I could only understand pieces. It didn’t sound like a very pleasant dream.”

Tomas shook his head, and pressed it back to the comforting coolness of the sink. He did not think that Marcus was a light sleeper, he had seen him practically comatose in the days after an exorcism, only coming up for air once a day to eat some burnt toast and drink a gallon of orange juice or alcohol (or on one memorable occasion, both). He was wrong, still feverish with horror.

“no, it was not a pleasant dream.”

Marcus moved off the doorway, leaning over Tomas to fill a glass with water, and crouching down to press it against the back of his neck.

“Good thing” Marcus said, “it isn’t over yet.” Tomas jerked and turned around, the cold water capsizing and soaking his neck and the back of his shirt. Behind him Marcus was bloody and smiling, full of eyes.     

\----------------------- 

 The bed beside Marcus was drenched with sweat but empty when he woke up. Marcus blinked blearily at it, trying to make sense of why…, and then at the watery yellow light that filtered in through the blinds. It couldn’t be after seven o’clock in the morning and Marcus groaned. Every piece of his skin felt like it had been delicately flayed and he could feel that some of his cuts were still oozing. He poured himself out of bed and into his leather jacket cursing softly when he smacked his knee into the bedside table.

Marcus padded through the house, careful not to make too much noise or turn on any lights, Verity didn’t deserve to be woken up at this ungodly hour. He checked every room in the house. Finally, following the brisk chill in the air, he found the front door ajar.

Tomas was sitting on the front steps of the house, his head pillowed on his arms and his eyes rimmed in red. He flinched when Marcus sat down on the steps next to him, leaning further into the railing. Marcus leaned back on his arms and stared up at the sky. For all that he hated mornings he loved sunrises. Right now, the sky was a peach gold with patches of lilac and red like the petals of some heavenly flower. It was bitingly cold, even for Marcus in his jeans and jacket, beside him Tomas was shivering so violently that Marcus could hear his head knocking sporadically against the railing.

“do you know, the first sunrise I ever saw was the morning after I killed my father? I’m sure I’d seen others before but I didn’t remember them. I remember that one though, it was like waking up.

I had run out into the street without my coat or shoes, and it’s the middle of winter in England remember so it was cold damp and miserable. I found someone’s back garden with a shed and a fence easy enough to climb. I sat up on the shed wondering if I slipped off the fall might kill me.

It was so very wet, no one would think twice about it, I would still be buried with my parents on consecrated ground. I hoped that god wouldn’t hold it against me. I sat up on that roof waiting to slip until the light started to flush the sky. My feet had gone numb as two stones, and my hands practically frozen to the roof, but the light where it filtered in through the clouds was so beautiful I felt like it was melting me. A baptism of light, chasing back the cold and darkness.”

“what if you can’t feel the light?” Tomas said, his voice soft and rough, “what if it’s too late and the sun can’t reach you. What if you have already slipped, and are falling.” 

Marcus reached out, his hand curling around Tomas’ freezing shoulder like a flame.

“then I will catch you.”

Before Marcus could continue the door opened and Verity stuck her head out.

“there you guys are, I’ve been looking all over. Rose just called and she’s heading back with the kids. They took Truck to one of those fucking state facilities, I tried to talk rose out of it but she said there was a procedure to follow or the fuck ever.” Verity’s voice sounded painful, she looked like she hadn’t slept at all, dark bruises climbing the column of her throat. Marcus quickly unfolded himself from the stairs, jamming his hands into his pockets.

“all right, just give us one more moment. I can make you some tea for your throat if you like?”

 “I can make my own tea, thanks.” Verity bit out, disappearing back into the house. Marcus thought that she sounded a little less sincere, so he took that as a win. He turned back to Tomas who was slowly levering himself to his feet.

 “We should get you bandaged before the children show up, you are looking a little…” Tomas trailed off, waving a hand vaguely. Marcus snorted and raised an eyebrow.

 “A little like I lost a fight with a lorry carrying a load of glass? Ya that’s about how I feel too, but look who’s talking.” Tomas smiled weakly and Marcus took that, too, as a win.

\------------------

A half hour and the entire contents of Andy’s medicine cabinet later, Marcus was mostly glass free and patched up. They had ruined no less than three towels and an uncountable number of washcloths but Tomas’ hands were warm again against Marcus’ skin and he was talking and laughing. Downstairs they heard the front door open and an excited jumble of voices float up the stairs.

“time to face the music.” Marcus said, standing up from the closed toilet seat and pulling his jacket back on. Marcus only made it to the landing before harper was hurtling up the stairs to throw her arms around his waist. Marcus didn’t try to hide his smile, crouching down to return her hug.

“hello love, I heard you had a bit of an adventure.” He said, leaning back to smooth her hair. Harper immediately launched into a detailed account of their night in the woods, complete with animated hand gestures and sound effects. Marcus listened to the whole thing with rapped attention while Tomas slid past him to talk to Rose.

“father.” Rose greeted him, “Verity told me what happened, thank you for staying with her and Andy.”

“she ah, she told you what happened?” Tomas said, looking quickly to Marcus who was still crouched on the landing with harper. Rose smiled and nodded,

“yes, she told me how when they got home he broke down and the two of you were just leaving and offered to stay. I’m sure Andy really appreciates all of this.”

“ah yes, of course.” Tomas said quickly, “we are happy to stay as long as you need us.”   Rose looked past him and lifted a hand in greeting.

“well speak of the devil.”          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may add more to this over the week so keep an eye out, as always my Spanish is iffy at best so let me know if theres anything I can tweak to make better.   
> Translations:  
> "Tomas look at us"   
> "You are a fool. You thought that you were pure, dirty whore, adulterer. You thought that would save you. Your partner, the old grey lion, will see this in you. He believes in you now, but how long can that last? He will leave you. Then you will belong to us. All of us."


	3. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus doing his best dad impersonation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Heres a little bit of a longer chapter, I'll update again ASAP.

Andy stood at the top of the stairs, a few steps above Marcus and Harper. He looked a bit like a cardboard of Andrew Kim might, stiff and blank, his eyes not tracking the children as they shouted out greetings. Immediately Marcus shifted himself to block Harper from Andy with his body, picking her up like he only playing and spinning them both down the stairs. Harper laughed when he set her down, smiling up at him and completely missing the panicked look Tomas shot Marcus.

“Hello Rose” Andy said “father Tomas, Mr. Keane, I thought you two had already left.” This was a peculiar thing for Andy to say for several reasons, primarily that he should have known that they were staying if they had helped him and verity the night previous. Rose frowned.

“They came by last night, don’t you remember? Verity called me, she said that you had a rough night and the fathers offered to stay with you.” Silence hung between the three, and for a second Andy stared at Tomas, his face blank. The moment passed and his normal friendly smile dropped back into place as he followed Marcus down the stairs.

“oh yes, of course, sorry Rose. Last night was rough, I’m still half asleep. I just got up, I haven’t even gotten the chance to make breakfast for the kids. How does pancakes sound?”  Harper, Caleb, and Shelby all quickly agreed, following Andy out of the room towards the kitchen. Tomas noted the way Marcus twitched in an aborted attempt to follow Harper, his eyes tracking Andy like a dog might track a squirrel. Happy sounds of pots and pans filtered in from the other room and Rose seemed to relax, while Verity tensed up, she was practically bristling. 

“Are you two staying for dinner?” Rose asked “One final meal and goodbye? I think Peter caught some salmon the other day and I bet it will be delicious, take everyone’s mind off everything.” A loud crashing from the kitchen that startled a laugh out of Rose.

“you both think about it. I shouldn’t leave them all alone in there, god knows what they will get up to, we’ll all be eating cotton candy and sprinkle stuffed pancakes.”

Just as she turned to leave she paused looking back at Marcus. “What happened to your head? It looks like you have a nasty cut there.” She tapped her right temple “did you hit your head on something? Peter said you were out on his boat last night but he didn’t mention any sort of accident.”

Marcus rubbed the back of his head sheepishly,

“yes, well I’m glad he didn’t, it wasn’t my proudest moment. Almost lost my footing and took a tumble over the side of the boat. Peter was a gentleman about it, didn’t even laugh at me, just gave me a hand pulling my pride back on board.” Rose chuckled,

“Oh I bet he did. Alright, I’ll see you in a minute.” As soon as she left verity snapped around.

“what the hell are you _doing,_ I thought you locked him in his room. You _promised_ me.” She hissed at Marcus. Marcus grimaced, rubbing a hand across his mouth.

“I did, I locked the door.”

“you said nothing would happen!” Verity said, her voice getting steadily louder. Her eyes were vast and dark, over bright and beginning to turn red around the edges. Marcus looked queasy. He was an animal made from two separate sets of parts, pieces salvaged from his childhood, and forged from the church. Normally these two halves worked just fine, but only from the sheer effort on Marcus’ part to make it so. However, if anyone put enough pressure on the mismatched section where the two halves met, you ran into issues. Luckily for everyone involved Tomas knew enough of his friend to jump in before the gears keeping Marcus going could tick to a stop.

“And it won’t” Tomas said, stepping forward and lifting his hands in supplication, “Marcus and I will stay for dinner, we will speak to Rose. We are doing everything we can.” Verity laughed and folded her arms tersely across her chest.

“oh ya, well your _partner_ was too busy ‘doing everything he could’ with Peter to be much help last time.” She stalked out of the room after Rose, her footsteps a sharp staccato of rage. The silence stretched, sitting thick and oppressive over both of them. Marcus looked pale and sharp, like a blade unsheathed. Tomas was oblivious, looking after her with an exasperated expression.

“Well that went worse than I hoped.” He said, looking back to Marcus and frowning. “Marcus is something wrong?”

Marcus shook himself and smiled quickly at Tomas. He folded his hands into his pockets so that Tomas couldn’t see the way they shook, neatly hiding the seam where his past and his present met. Verity wasn’t wrong, he _should_ have been there for Tomas, not gallivanting off with some bloke like a fucking teenager, he knew better, he should know better. After lecturing Tomas about Jessica he was the worst kind of hypocrite.

“yes of course,” Marcus said “apologies. We shouldn’t leave them alone, come on.” Marcus hurried out of the room after the kids, with Tomas following closely behind, trying to understand what had just happened.

\--------------------

Andy insisted on visiting truck at the hospital after breakfast, so Marcus’ and Tomas’ protection wasn’t needed so much as their baby sitting. Rose left them both with a laundry list of do’s and don’ts for the day and threatened them both with grievous bodily harm if any of the kids had so much as a hair out of place when she returned.

  Marcus tried to hide his glee but within five minutes of Rose’s departure he organized the band of miscreants with buckets and set off for the shore line. Tomas trailed behind, satisfied to watch and laugh as Marcus lifted Harper up onto his shoulders and told the older kids (strategically edited) accounts of some of his funnier experiences in the priesthood. Even Verity looked slightly less thunderous, maybe even amused.  The forest around them echoed back Marcus’ voice, making it bounce and boom in a peculiar way, reminding Tomas of the way his own voice used to reverberate in his church. A series of hymns on joy caught in the branches that arched over them like the ribs of the sanctuary. Needles and leaves acted as stained glass giving the light a warm green glow, Tomas turned his eyes up to the sky and whispered a prayer. The soft Spanish syllables felt fitting on his tongue, though the prayer itself was vague.

 Up ahead a fallen tree blocked their path, forcing Shelby and Verity to help Caleb over it. Instead of following them Marcus took a few steps back, eyeing the log appraisingly. He adjusted his grip on Harper’s legs and took three bounding steps, hurtling the log. Harper squealed with laughter while Shelby and Caleb applauded. Marcus turned back to Tomas, trying his best to look either sheepish or humble, Tomas couldn’t tell.

“Four years of field sports in secondary school.” He offered in explanation.

He looked ridiculous, with his bag almost off his shoulder, both hands preoccupied holding Harper in place, and his face plastered with an almost comically apologetic expression. Tomas laughed helplessly, doubled over and letting it spill out of him. The forest echoed it back to him. 

“the embarrassing things we do in primary school.” Tomas said, once he had collected himself and continued on his way, tugging Marcus’ bag back into place as he passed. The beach was within sight, just between the trees, and the kids ran ahead. Marcus set Harper down, using his hands to brace her until the very last second, and watched as she sprinted after them. Once she was safely beside Verity he turned to Tomas, his eyes bright with mischief.  

“oh yes? And pray tell father, what embarrassing things did _you_ do in primary school?” he asked. Tomas looked at him out of the corner of his eye but kept walking, causally over his shoulder he said,

“I joined the seminary’s mariachi band, we sung exclusively terrible Christian covers in Spanish.”

Marcus started laughing, and didn’t stop until Tomas patted his cheek and shoved him into a bush. Tomas disappeared down the trail after the kids but Marcus took a moment to lay on his back in the green leaves of the bush. They were surprisingly soft and felted with red berries that looked a bit like raspberries. The air was thick with the smell of pines and rich soil, and the smell of damp secret places. Marcus closed his eyes and let the silence sink into his skin. Far off he could hear the children’s voices, now mingling with Tomas’ soft accent, and the excited shrilling of gulls. He felt oddly peaceful for what had taken place the previous night. Finally the sharp poking of the bush’s branches into his lower back made him lever himself to his feet.

Between the trees he could see Tomas beside Shelby and Caleb, leaning over a tide pool that Verity and Harper had both climbed down into. They were pointing and gesturing excitedly. As Marcus drew closer he could hear Harper talking excitedly about how deep the tide pool was and how she could see a big fish down there. Verity thought it was just a shadow. Before he could reach them Tomas looked up and lifted a hand in greeting, but not for him. Marcus followed his gaze and saw Peter rounding the point about a quarter of a mile up the beach. Tomas looked like he was about to walk towards the man but Marcus waved him down, gesturing that he would meet Peter. Tomas nodded and turned back to the kids.

Marcus carefully picked his way towards Peter, doing his best to avoid being sucked down by the damp sand. Unfortunately, this involved a great deal of hopping from rock cluster to rock cluster and cursing (quietly, so the children couldn’t hear). Peter had stopped to watch him and by the time Marcus reached him the man was chuckling like the true bastard he was. Marcus folded his arms across his chest and tried to look as intimidating as he did staring down a demon, the effect was slightly diminished by Peter leaning forward and pulling an entire branch out of his hair. Peter raised an eyebrow.

“picked up a little friend did you?”  he asked, tapping the branch against Marcus’ chest. Marcus batted it away.

“Maybe I was lonely.” Marcus countered.

“You could have just called.” Peter said, leaning in closer to Marcus, pressing his fingers into Marcus’ arm.

“we are watching the kids while Rose and Andy visit Truck” he said, apologetically pulling his arm out of Peter’s grasp “I thought I’d come to say hello, but I really shouldn’t leave Tomas alone with the kids. They’ll have him doing handstands in five minutes and preforming miracles.”

Something in Peter’s expression shifted as Marcus spoke. But before he could speak three things happened in quick succession. The first was that Marcus noticed the shift, and something that had been whispering at the corner of his mind began to shout. The second was that a very large seagull fell out of the sky and smacked into Verity, drawing her gaze away from Harper. The third was that Harper quite suddenly and completely disappeared under the tide pools water.

It took all of a second for these three things to turn Marcus and send him sprinting as fast as he could back down the beach, if he had looked back he would have seen that peter was gone, but he did not look back. Tomas was already elbow deep in the tide pool, groping blindly for Harper while Shelby grabbed Verity out of the pool by her armpits. Marcus dropped his bag and shucked his coat onto the rocky lip of the pool, hesitating only a moment before following Harper into the water.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm from a tiny island outside of Seattle so I'm going to be using a lot of local jokes and references, if anyone doesn't get those let me know. Also the ocean around Seattle is called the Puget Sound (the sound for short) which is how I refer to it in the text. I took 4 years of Spanish and have some native speaking friends but my grammar is god awful so if I make any truly hideous mistakes let me know.


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